The Ballad of Donna and Jack
by bobbymcfoogle
Summary: When Donna Noble is relocated to Cardiff, sparks fly between her and a certain Time Agent, leader of Torchwood 3. Set post-Journey's End, Donna/Jack - just to see what would happen! Reviews are love! Rating may change later ...
1. Chapter 1

**This story is post-**_**Journey's End**_**, so major spoilers involved! A little look at what could have possibly developed between Captain Jack Harkness and Donna Noble … (She did seem to fancy him, after all!).**

--

"_Who – is _that_?" Donna pointed to the screen, a spark of flirtation and mild lust in her eyes at the sight of the handsome captain._

"_Stop it …" The Doctor's voice warned. _

_--_

"You can hug me if you like …"

_Jack laughed and turned back to the moving scene of the reunion of his two friends._

"_No, really!"_

_He laughed again, more awkwardly this time, before the Doctor re-engaged the two of them in matters._

_--_

Donna Noble had been working as a secretary for Wards Solicitors, a locally based law firm dealing with domestic matters, for the past five months. The work, although slow and often a little dull, satisfied her yet untried mental capacity and the pay was more than ample. She made good friends with the other 'lower down' members of staff and she enjoyed the routine that her occupation allowed. After all, it was all she was used to, never having been much of a traveller or risk taker, inspite of her granddad's recent and unexplained urgings for her to go out and "see the world" as he put it. Donna, ever perplexed by the musings of her grandfather, had yet to take him up on his advice, but even so she did feel some slight discontent at her everyday existence after he began pestering her to live life more on the edge. Inspite of these feelings, however, she found the pull of the above average salary that came from working for a nationwide firm too enticing to start taking a midlife gap year, and felt like sticking with her career.

She was still, even at the ripe old age of thirty-four, very much dependent on her mother and grandfather. Although she didn't live with them anymore, (residing in a small flat in Fulham since she got her new job), she had most of her meals at her family's house and knew that although she didn't necessarily _need_ them to rely upon, without them she would feel slightly lonely. Her world revolved very much around her family and friends (mainly women, either similar to herself or happily married with young children) and she found it comforting that she always knew whom to turn to when in distress. Therefore, it put a bit of a spanner in the works when she received the email from her boss, Jonathan Ward, apologetic for any inconveniences, stating that she was to be relocated to Cardiff of all places.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews and to those of you who have added this story to your alerts! Please keep them coming!**

**I apologise in advance for insults of the Welsh. They don't represent my feelings whatsoever! I think Cardiff is super and all that, naturally.**

--

"Mum, it's Cardiff! _Cardiff!_"

"Calm down, Donna!"

Donna had been letting off steam about the promotion ever since she arrived at the family house for supper at six o'clock. It was now nine o'clock and her dulcet tones were taking their toll upon Wilf and his daughter … All through supper she had jabbered on about the matter, making aggressive hand movements with her knife and fork and banging her glass on the table.

"But it's just so … grey! And they're all Welsh! Come on … you know how I feel about the Welsh – _sheep lovers_ and all that!"

"Well, that's hardly fair! Besides, you'll be living in the centre of the capital – miles from any grass, countryside, or _sheep_ for that matter. Go on love, it'll do you good – life in a new city."

"Oh, thanks a bunch! Trying to get rid of me now, are we?" Donna was trying to be defiant, stubborn and attempting to get her own way. Although her exterior portrayed one who was angry at the world, not wanting to comply because of the sheer pleasure of being an inconvenience, Sylvia Noble could see the true hurt shining bright in her eyes. But she felt, what with the tragedy of the climax to Donna's experiences with that Doctor, it was time for her to let go and start a new life. She desperately wanted her daughter to remain a part of their lives, but Sylvia knew that she was always be a dependent child if she never branched out, alone. The Doctor had shown that she could be a better person when she took risks and did things for herself and her mother knew that this was an opportunity for this to happen in as safe a way as possible. Anyway, Cardiff was only a few hours away from London and they'd always stay in touch.

"No, dear – you know that's not it. I just think this is one of those chances you shouldn't turn down." Her tone was soft and surprisingly gentle. If there was one thing that man had taught her, it was that she'd always been too tough on Donna; never given her enough sympathy, nor accepted her for just being _her_.

Donna slumped back in her seat, a look of contempt crossing her features. She knew that her mother was right – ever since her grandfather had started pestering her to lead a more thrilling life, she really had been growing sick of the same old life in the suburbs of London. Bouncing between Fulham and Chiswick wasn't as exciting as it had been in the first few weeks, so could this new opportunity provide an escape from the bed she had chosen to make?

Therefore, it was with mingled regret and anticipation that Donna accepted the new job and two weeks later, her worldly possessions packed up in cardboard boxes in the back of a moving lorry, she bade farewell to her close friends, mother and granddad.

"I think it's you I'll miss the most," she told Wilf, trying desperately to stop the tears from brimming and falling down her eagerly made up face. Wilf smiled the smile of a man who has had to say similar goodbyes to loved ones knowing that they never get easier, not even with time. The last time he had said goodbye to a friend it had been one of the worst days of his life. The rain had poured in torrents and although he had promised to always look out for this particular friend, it sometimes got to him and he understood the enormity of his and his daughter's situation.

--

As Donna was driven away, Wilf looked up to the sky in the hope that he might see the small blue box he had dreamed about so many times … But it was always the same. The sky was empty, as was the room where his beloved granddaughter had lived for so many years now was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Not sure how often I'll update … it's relatively often right now, being the holidays and all, but stuff might get in the way. Thank you for everyone's interest - Enjoy!**

--

Sometimes, Jack really missed Toshiko Sato. Oh, he knew that more than enough time had passed for him and the team to be getting over her and Owen's departures, but she had been such a close friend and colleague that he occasionally found himself staring wistfully into space and longing for her skills and laughter. He missed Owen too, of course, but he'd died and then hung around for such a long time that he'd passed grieving for him. Tosh, on the other hand, he still found hard to let go of. Too many times he'd looked up from his desk, sights set on the humming and whirring of the computers and expected to see her studious silhouette, her genial mind on the verge of making some cataclysmic or wondrous discovery. He missed talking with her, not to mention her beyond realistic skills in her field. But that was the curse of Torchwood: your days were numbered – at least for the others, they were.

Since the business on board the crucible, with the Doctor and the Daleks, Torchwood had finally found replacements for these deceased workers, who Jack had put off for so long trying to replace. Martha Jones, ex-companion of the Doctor and UNIT medical expert had taken up the position of resident doctor, and Mickey Smith, ex-accomplice of Rose Tyler and Parallel-World Torchwood "techno-whiz" was now doing just that for the Torchwood of _this_ Earth.

So, they beat on against the forces of evil in that small city, ever aware of the imminent threat of doom. But Jack had learnt that even with a complete team, there were still forces of danger beyond any human control …

--

**I'm sorry, I know it's all pretty slow moving right now but things will hopefully heat up soon! I'm trying to work on longer chapters, too … **


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope you're happy that this one will finally be a long(ish) one! Whoopee for me.**

--

Donna Noble had always liked a good night out. For her, there was almost nothing in the world better than hitting the town with her girlfriends and enjoying the bustling, lively atmosphere of a good pub or bar. Ever since she was fifteen years old and not really excelling at school (but neither failing), and she had started going to the pub every Friday with her school friends in the year above, she had realised she was something of a social butterfly. She hated staying at home when she knew that her friends were at a party and this was an interest that had carried well into her adult life. Although, there had been a period a while ago when Donna couldn't remember quite _what_ parties she'd been at … but she liked to think that that was simply because she'd been having such a good time. Although her wild ways had naturally calmed as she had got older, she still felt the need for a good social life in order to enjoy herself and this was the main reason why, in late November (and therefore the start of the Christmas season), she wasn't _too_ pleased to find herself in a strange new town where her social life put her on the same level as a hermit (at least in her books). She'd only had one friend when she'd arrived in Cardiff – a girl she'd known in the sixth form called Heidi, who, on leaving school, had been to university, only to marry and have children in quick succession. She had a son and a daughter, aged three and six, and although Donna had enjoyed catching up with this old friend, the social circuit that she had allowed her access to was mainly comprised of mothers and their darling children, toddler group leaders and school committee members, and this wasn't exactly the scene Donna felt she most fitted in to. Sure, at work there were other people – but the only other secretary on her floor was an eighteen year old who had got the position due to her father's heavy investment in the firm, and the other workers her age were all the high-flying lawyers who felt it below their station to fraternise with her. Fair enough, they had been perfectly friendly; it was probably more Donna's own resentment of their success that prevented her from forging any bonds with them.

Thus, the first few weeks of Donna's life in Cardiff passed quietly and sedately, bar the occasional pop back to London to see her old friends and gorge herself on nostalgia and old times. With the exception of these longed for trips, Saturday nights were spent curled up on the sofa in her pyjamas, eating chocolates and watching _Casualty_, or on the phone to her granddad. Soon, however, she found that this dull lifestyle, although relaxing, just wasn't for her. She took action. She joined a _yoga class._

For Donna, any form of exercise could be equated with torture. Yet, there had been that completely inexplicable time during the summer when she'd suddenly found herself able to run really quite well … it was as though she'd had a lot of practise, running a lot, but she was certain she'd been being just as lazy as usual. Even so, desperate times called for desperate measures and she felt this would be one of the dead-cert ways she could meet other women her age, in whom she could find friends.

--

It was with anticipation and a little dread that Donna attended the first session on a Tuesday evening. She parked outside the church hall (such a cosmopolitan location) and walked in. She was a little early and only a few other people were there – a small, balding man in grey draw-string tracksuit bottoms, and two women, both in shades of pink and lilac, with bobbing ponytails, talking animatedly about some matter or other. The hall soon filled up and Donna was thankful that she was not the only person to come alone; neither was she the only person for whom this was their first time. With a deep breath, she let herself go with the flow and follow the lesson, adamant not to make a fool of herself.

--

After ninety minutes of stretching and bending, pilates and yoga moves, the class came to an end. "Tea to your left, put your mats in the cupboard at the back of the hall. See you next week!" called the instructor. Donna put away her blue, rubbery mat and headed over to where they were serving hot cups of tea and coffee. Everyone else seemed to have someone to talk to and when Donna had finished putting her three sugars in her mug of tea, she wasn't really sure what to do. It had been so long since she'd been the only new person somewhere and she felt reminiscent of her first days at secondary school. But _everyone_ had been new all those years ago … now she was the only one. She'd clearly become much too comfortable with the easiness of her old life. She tried to approach the shiny haired, slim women in pink she'd seen at the beginning of the class but as she did so, opening her mouth about to say who-knows-what, they turned around, blanking her, and she was left ready to speak to nobody. She turned, preparing to leave, go home and certainly _not _come back, but her eyes perceived another woman looking just as lonely and morose as her. She was a medium height, medium weight, relatively curvaceous woman of roughly thirty, with chin-length, dark and glossy hair. She had a rosy complexion and though not beautiful, she had the air of being someone you'd _like_ to go and talk to. So, Donna approached her.

Her name was Sandy Field and she was a theatre nurse at the local hospital. It was also her first lesson, and she had been just as nervous as Donna. "Mainly because, well, I'm hardly a size 0!" She guffawed with laughter, and Donna tittered nervously. _Fair enough_, she thought, _slightly irritating, but beggars can't be choosers._ Even if Sandy was grating slightly (mainly because of her sing-song Welsh accent), she did seem genuinely friendly and the first nice person, similar to Donna, that she'd met in a while. She resonated her old friends and she had missed them. Thus, it was somewhat happily, although with a little trepidation, that she accepted her offer of invitation to the pub that night with Sandy's other friends.

--

The evening passed enjoyably and amicably enough. Sandy's friends were amusing and intelligent and Donna felt as though she was starting to fit in. And not _all_ of them had Welsh accents … but even so she was starting to find the language of the Valleys quite endearing. Sandy actually had a husband, Dave, of three years but no children, although they were looking into adoption. The rest of her friends were in a similar mould – both single men and women like Donna, or people in relationships. Unfortunately none of these similar, apparently like-minded men attracted her much, but she didn't really mind. She'd become used to the fact that she was single and unlikely to find "the one" this late in the game. She left the Fox and Hound Inn just after midnight, bidding farewell to her new friends and hailed a taxi. At this peak time, there were none nearby so she reluctantly walked over to Union Street where she'd heard there was always an abundance of taxis. Upon finally getting one however, she opened up her purse to find she didn't have enough money for the fare back to her poky flat; she would have to brave walking.

She started along the street, busy only with a handful of people – teenage girls, men buying kebabs – and clutched her handbag tight to her chest. She had heard tales of people being stabbed for a tenner in parts of the city and although she had only been mugged once in her life (in her mid-twenties; she had never really got over the loss of that mobile phone), she could be paranoid. She had no idea why … for some reason she often felt shrewder beyond her experiences; as if she'd seen a lot but almost couldn't remember it …

Half way through her journey, Donna was tired and in need of a sit down – after all, she had done an insane amount of exercise that day, what with the yoga class! Thinking that she'd be incapable of making it all the way home without a heart attack, she walked to the bus stop by the park and sat down to wait for the next No. 30 bus to her neighbourhood. Scanning the timetable, she saw it wouldn't arrive for twenty-five minutes. The night was bitterly cold and she could hear the beginning splatters of rain pattering on the roof of the shelter, causing her to hurriedly choose the option of staying and waiting for the bus. There was the occasional passer by, but Donna was the sole waiter under the shelter; and so she waited.

--

Looking up and down the street, the moonlight danced on the pavement in the splashing puddles. Footsteps clacked down the street and Donna craned her neck to see from whom they were coming. A tall man with dark brown hair was striding towards the shelter, finger pressed to his ear, speaking inconspicuously to some person not present through an aural device. He was clad in a World War II style greatcoat and looked like he had somewhere he needed to get to. She could hear the creak of the oncoming bus a couple of streets away, but the figure was advancing with a pace faster than looked possible. Soon he was close enough for her to make out his face; he had a handsome, charming look about him but there was something lurking beneath his eyes that made her feel slightly uneasy; they were too old for his body. Suddenly, this sinister look vanished and his eyes lit up. He strode towards her even faster, calling in an American accent, "Donna Noble! What in hell's name are you doing here?"

Donna's jaw dropped. Who was this man? What did he want with _her_? And how in blazes did he know her name?

"I'm sorry love - good one, but I haven't a clue who you are."

The bus drew up and she stood, getting out her left over change (not quite sufficient for the luxury of a taxi). The man was still standing there, watching her with a most perplexed expression.

"What? It hasn't been _that_ long – surely just several months?"

"Yeeaah … okay. I'll be off!" _Just humour him, and he'll leave you alone._ She took her place on the hard, plastic seat of the bus and waited for it to pull away. As it did so, she looked out of the back window. But the man had gone. All that was left in his place was sheer nothingness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Just a note – this is assuming that the Doctor never told Jack, nor any of the others, about what he had to do to Donna. Personally, I think it makes sense that he wouldn't have done – I can't imagine any of them having been too happy with what he did – at least some of them would surely have tried to stop him! He won't be making an actual appearance (as of yet), but of course, being the genius he is, he will have factored a way to let them know what happened after Mickey, Jack and Martha left him. I have also had to improvise _slightly_ with the conditions under which Donna would "burn up", otherwise this story wouldn't be possible …**

--

Jack's mind was in turmoil … at midnight he had seen Donna Noble, in Cardiff, _without_ the Doctor, and she had completely denied any knowledge of him. This was a woman who had flirted with him unashamedly the first time they met, for Christ's sake!

It was now the early hours of Wednesday morning and he was lying in his bed in the Hub, going over and over things in his mind. Did it have something to do with the Doctor-Donna situation? Sure, something could have gone wrong with that … but Jack had no experience of such a fusion – who knew what it could have done? All he _did_ know was that she had genuinely forgotten him – and that in itself was just plain weird. He hardly thought himself forgettable, after all.

Even so, Jack had other pressing matters to be thinking about. Things were hectic at the Hub – Martha was away on an operation in conduct with UNIT and wouldn't return for another fortnight. Oh, he still bitterly resented that organisation, but knew that it was for the good of the world that he let her fulfill her duties. Stubbornness didn't exactly go hand in hand with leadership and as a result they were all swamped with paperwork and other menial tasks. Medical problems had to be consulted via fax and video-communication and that simply wasn't enough. Ianto's coffee machine had broken (leading to caffeine withdrawal symptoms all round) and if Mickey called him "Captain Cheesecake" once more, he thought he might have to set a weevil on him. Even Gwen was starting to infuriate him. And an annoyed Jack was an angry Jack.

But if there was one other problem that Jack knew he had to solve, it was what the hell was going on with Donna.

--

He woke at six o'clock the next morning and climbed up the iron ladder and out of his quarters. Having drunk a glass of water to clear his head, he strolled into his office and sat at the desk, ready to write a disgruntled email to the head of UNIT enquiring as to whether they could get Martha back early. Having finished this, he sorted some of the papers on his desk and found a couple of articles about weevil attacks that needed to be filed away. Picking them up, he sauntered away to the archives and filed them in the "W" of the "Accidentals" section. Flicking through this draw, Jack noticed that there was also a section named "Noble." He stared at it, wondering if he had seen it before … surely he hadn't? He was immaculate in his keeping of the files and knew he would have remembered if there was a section on a particular individual …

With a deep breath, Jack picked the file out of the draw and began to rifle through it.

--

The file was divided into two sections, each with a date. The first date read: _Wednesday 3__rd__ December 2008_. That was today's date!

The second was inscribed: _Friday 3__rd__ December 2010._

Utterly bewildered, Jack looked inside the first section. There was one envelope, creamy white cartridge paper, uncreased and as new as if it had been placed there that day; an impossibility, as he would have _known_ had anybody entered the Hub – the trespassing system was too complex to be swindled and he'd even have been alerted had any member of Torchwood come in. Turning the envelope over so that he could see to whom it was addressed, he saw that his own name, '_Captain Jack Harkness_' was written in letters cut out from newspaper articles. Even more dazed, he opened the letter. Never, in all of his wildest dreams did he anticipate what he would read.

--

_Dear Jack,_

_I am writing to dispel any confusion that I know you're feeling right now. I thought it would be best to do so before you manage to put your foot in things too much; I know the situation well and if this does not reach you by the time I plan for it to, the fate of the world could be at stake. Last night you saw Donna Noble. She failed to recognise you and you are clueless as to why. I am here to clear that matter up, as well as explain some important things she and I need you to do._

_I will start by saying it is of the utmost importance that you do not open the letter under the section, "3__rd__ December 2010" until that date. These are messages written in hindsight and the structure of time and space could fracture if you were to do so. Even the one you are reading right now is risky, but your good friend, the Doctor, has assured me that it remains within the limits of matters such as this. _

_The last time you saw him, the Doctor was with Rose, Jackie, the human Doctor and Donna on board the TARDIS. As you know, the first three passengers were returned to a Parallel Universe. As far as you were concerned, Donna remained a companion of the Doctor. It is regretfully that I have to inform you that day was the last journey she took with him. Due to the fusion of her mind with a Time Lord's in her physically human state, she would have "burned up" had the Doctor not taken action. The physical, chemical and biological details are complicated, but you will come to understand them one day. As a result, he was forced to wipe her memory of him and her travels with him. If she is told anything about the Doctor, extra-terrestrial life or her adventures as his companion then her mind _will_ burn up and she will die. _

_I am aware that she has come to work in Cardiff, the location of a rift in Time and Space. Therefore, it is your duty to prevent her from remembering that which will kill her. One day, you will understand why this letter was written, and why, of all the people there fighting for the Doctor's Secret Arm that day, it is you who has been chosen to be her shield. Until then, I wish you good luck. _

_A Friend._

--

Jack folded up the letter and put it in his breast pocket. _All that is holy … _that was quite a message. The letter had been written on a typewriter, giving no indication as to its sender. Who else had been there that day, who could have known all of those details about what had happened, who had been where, travelling with whom? His mind drew a complete blank.

Suddenly, he heard the hum and whir of the siren by the door – someone else was arriving at the Hub, probably Mickey (always an early starter). Hurriedly, Jack clammed the filing cabinet closed and darted up the stairs to his office. It would be a long day and a sleepless night, that much he was sure of …


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N: Sorry it has taken me such a long time to get round to updating this! I hope there is still some interest here … you might be pleased to know that I have finally written the outline for the rest of this story, so it's no longer just stabs in the dark. Unfortunately, however, there is one bit that might make you a little sad … or maybe a few bits ... but I will stop writing about that now and go back to where we were before. Thanks again for all encouragement/criticism/praise – it means so much!**

**(This requires a *little* knowledge about _Torchwood_)**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"And then he said to me, if I couldn't come to his Aunt Jude's silver wedding anniversary, he'd know that I really didn't…"

Ianto Jones sat on a swivel chair at the table of the conference room, twisting aimlessly and staring into the distance, lost in his own thoughts. Gwen had been going on for the past quarter of an hour about Rhys and his "outrageous" demands on her and her work for Torchwood, and how unfair she found all of this. If it was really so unfair, why did she stay with him? Or, preferably, if she cared that much about him, why couldn't she just take an amnesia pill and bugger of back to the police force and leave those who could separate their personal and professional lives to do the _real_ work … No, Ianto wasn't bitter; just Gwen could get on his nerves, that was all. And since Tosh and Owen had died … well, him and Owen had obviously had their differences. But that didn't mean he didn't miss him – and Tosh. She'd been such a good friend, the only one who'd _really_ understood how he felt when he lost Lisa, the only one who'd experienced love like that and had to give it up in the name of the noble cause … Since then, he'd been feeling the pinch of loss.

Since everything that had happened on board the Crucible, things had been different. Ianto had finally set eyes on this elusive Doctor that Jack had been going on about so much … Jack maintained that his "love" for this man was purely platonic, but Ianto had still felt threatened – he was much better looking than he'd imagined and seemed such a … hero. Even so, from what he'd seen on the web cam, this brown coated, skinny saviour had been paying far more attention to the striking blonde girl than Jack. He remembered how those two had laughed over their recognition of Gwen … There was so much he didn't know about this other life of Jack's, so much he wanted to ask. But things had been different. They hadn't slept together once and to be perfectly honest, Ianto was glad. Since everything that had happened with Grey and John, Ianto had been terrified and in awe of Jack. Terrified because of how much his brother had hated him, how much power he seemed to have over people's emotions. And in awe because, well – he was Jack. He'd spent almost two thousand years buried alive and still seemed the same. But in a way that scared him even more; what kind of person could go through all that and come out unscathed and unchanged? But he had changed; he'd stopped showing so much affection (or whatever the hell you want to call it) towards Ianto, amongst other things, including his insane temper. And they were both lonely, again.

So, here they were waiting. All four of them; Ianto, Gwen, Martha and Mickey. Jack had told them he had something "urgent" he needed to discuss with them, and, as usual, they'd gathered in the conference room for whatever minor incident had taken his interest. As always.

* * *

It had been one week and one day since Jack had received the letter and today was Martha's first day back since her departure for UNIT. He'd managed to put off having to explain the 'Donna Situation' to the rest of the team until her return, but now he really had no excuses – the longer he kept this to himself, the longer a woman's life was in danger. He hadn't really found time to act on things yet; he felt he needed the guidance of a friend (namely Martha, in this place – a friend who knew what life with the Doctor was like; there was Mickey, but he had been more of a part-time companion much like himself), in order to decide upon a plan of action. Nevertheless, Jack's main problem had been resisting the temptation of looking at the other letter … he knew that the results of giving in to such urges would be cataclysmic, but when faced with such an irresistibly disobedient option, Jack found behaving himself a task in itself. Besides, the first letter had hardly quenched his thirst for knowledge about the whole thing, and he really didn't know how to begin.

He strode into the conference room, where sat the four members of his team. He marched to the head of the table.

"Uh ... right," he began. Lately, he'd been realising he wasn't necessarily the great leader he once had been … he was nearing his two thousand three hundredth year – he wasn't quite sure, time seemed to go so fast for him – and the majority of that he'd spent cooped up in what was hell on Earth, buried beneath a city. And it had knocked his confidence, which was more than an understatement.

"Well, I'm sure all of you remember Donna Noble."

"With the Doctor?" Mickey perked up. He felt a little superior in this field … being one of only three Torchwood members to have travelled with him; he had the edge against Gwen and Ianto. How smug he felt!

"Yes. I ran into her today."

"Oh yeah? How was she?" Martha had such a vested interest, having spent all that time with Donna. But where was the Doctor in all of this?

"Different. She didn't know who I was."

"Uh-oh, there's trouble. Maybe you're not so unforgettable!" Gwen's jest was greeted with a dark, warning glare from Jack.

"It's not like that. She's lost her memory – she doesn't remember any of us, anything that happened …"

"But how?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I got a letter today. Not sure who from. The jist was … y'know the whole Time-Lord-Metacrisis ordeal? Well, to prevent her from dying as a result of it, he had to wipe her memory. All of it, right from the first day they met. And, I was told to protect her – she's moved to Cardiff, so the likelihood of her bumping into extra-terrestrial life is so much greater."

Everyone stared blankly, slightly shocked.

"Anyway, obviously we don't want that to happen. And we'll need to sort out how we can protect her from … things that might happen. We're the only ones who know about the Doctor; about her and the Doctor. So it's our duty to make sure nothing harms her."

"But she's just one person – how are we supposed to help her?"

"I don't know."

---

After he'd finished talking to the group, Jack took Martha aside.

"This is madness," she said. "Poor Donna – can you imagine that? All of those things she did, all those lives she saved! And she can never know. It breaks your heart, doesn't it?"

Jack stared grimly at her. "You know you can't help, don't you?" Martha nodded, forlornly. "You spent too much time with her – all those things you told me the three of you did together – you'd make her remember him."

"I know. But why isn't it the same for you?"

"I only met her the once; and last week, when I saw her – well, she didn't die, did she? I must be okay."

"It's so hard to comprehend."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

He hadn't shown them the letter. There was something intimate about it, like it wasn't meant for sharing with the group. But he knew he had to follow it, as uncomfortable as it made him. If he only knew how.

* * *

**More?**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm finally finding the stamina and energy to carry on with this; let's hope it lasts!**

**

* * *

****Chapter 7**

* * *

It was Saturday morning and Donna was enjoying the weekend. She'd spent the morning in the centre, shoe-shopping for some high-heeled leather boots that she'd seen a while ago but hadn't had the guts to actually buy, because the snooty shop assistant had been putting her off. Well, they'd probably be gone by next month, so she decided to live vicariously and bought a pair. One hundred and twenty pounds they'd cost her, though, and she wasn't too sure they were _quite_ worth it. But still, she thought somewhat bitterly, it wasn't exactly as though she had anyone else to support.

* * *

Walking along the high street returning home from her shopping spree, Donna noticed a dark, striking girl in a black leather jacket striding down the road. Next to her was a young man, with a shaved head and similar complexion. They were conversing frantically and she could hear snatches such as, "hieroglyphics", "lunar conversion" and "Jack doesn't want it like that". Looking at the young woman, Donna's head began to ache like it was on fire. She shrieked in pain and a few passers-by stopped and stared, one or two asking if she was alright as she leant against the wall. "Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered, massaging her temples and with a feeling of embarrassment.

She looked up urgently to see where the mysterious pair had got to, but they had both vanished out of thin air. She carried on her way, bewildered.

* * *

In the early evening, Donna was taking a bath, beautifying herself to save from dying of boredom; she'd never been much of a reader and there was nothing good on television lately. As she lay back in the bath and closed her eyes, she thought about what had happened that day. That girl … where did she know her from? The man with her, there'd been something slightly familiar about him, too. But she couldn't for the life of her work out what … and the more she thought about it, the more his image faded from her memory, as if it had all been a dream. But the girl … her face was as vivid as ever.

A flash of hot white hit her eyes. Everything was clear just for a moment, but it _hurt so much_ … Stars whizzing around; a slim, wiry man she needed to find and save; exploding suns and luminous bodies, then complete darkness; little men shaped like potatoes dressed in purple and a fear so great it threatened to overwhelm her …

Suddenly her mind flashed again and she found herself lying in a tepid bathtub, wondering what on Earth she'd been doing for the past hour.

* * *

The next evening, Donna was walking home alone from supper with Heidi and her husband. It was a warm night but she was tired and wanted to get home as soon as possible, plus those novelty boots were beginning to blister. Riskily, she decided to take a short cut through the park; it was relatively well lit and, although there wasn't anybody around, didn't feel at all dangerous. As she walked over the soft springy grass, however, she began to wonder if she really was alone. Was that tree over there … moving? Surely, it could only be the wind … Donna wasn't sure what was happening, but ever since the run-in with that American man by the bus stop she had been extremely paranoid. She picked up her pace, stumbling over the heels on a stray brunch, only just stopping herself from falling flat on her face.

Still, she continued on her way, wondering what she'd have for supper tomorrow night and whether –

_Crash._

She was knocked violently to the ground as some being had launched themselves at her with all of their might. _What's going on?!_ she thought weakly, unable to cry for help as her face was ground into the dirt. Her back was being thumped repeatedly and all she could hear was a crazed, ferocious growling as whatever nightmare it was seemed to be trying every possible way to kill her. Her mouth was filling up with grit and she choked, barely able to breathe by this point … _Oh my God, I'm going to die_, she thought, an animalistic terror overwhelming her.

But the pressure was, miraculously, easing. Someone else had arrived and was pummelling whatever this insane creature was. An aerosol was sprayed and all of the strength was knocked out of the animal-like being as a back was hurriedly pulled down over its head. As the person finished tying the binding knot, Donna rolled over weakly and tried to sit up.

"You okay?" He asked.

Donna blearily wiped her face and scraped a mass of auburn hair out of her eyes, in shocked silence. Well, there was a first for everything. She looked up confusedly and frowned.

"_You!_"

The very same American man who had been plaguing her thoughts since he'd first appeared stretched an arm down to her, wiggling his fingers to help her up. She reached out and took it, hauling herself into an upright position. But the blood suddenly rushed to her head and, combined with all of that adrenaline and fear, she staggered backwards.

Only to be caught in the arms of this anonymous stranger.

He held her up, arms tightly around her shoulders, face just inches away from hers. "Hello," she whispered, breathlessly.

* * *

Holding Donna in his arms like that, Jack felt slightly … like he was taking advantage. _But she flirted with you!_ a voice in his head was yelling at him. All those months ago – she'd been all over him! Demanding hugs, sly looks and all of those unsubtle attraction rituals people from the twenty-first century tried … And he had always had a thing for redheads, and she was _certainly_ one of those. Firy tempers, porcelian skin, golden-sheened hair ... But, no. He couldn't be like this with someone he was supposed to be protecting, a small voice in his head warned.

"Hi there," he said, mustering his most charming voice. Sure, she'd been a _little_ outrageous when they'd first met, but who was he to turn down an opportunity to flirt? And what harm could a little flirting do? "Are you okay?"

"What _was_ that thing?"

"Nothing, some insane guy I guess. You're lucky I was there …" She looked sceptical.

"I could have handled it."

Jack chortled. "Sure you could … you were doing really well until I came along."

"Were you following me? It's not normal, y'know – turning up before, yelling about how you know me … now, this. It's a bit weird, if you ask me."

"I'm not following you! I mistook you for someone else, s'all."

"Then how did you know my name?"

"Uh, I overheard it?" Donna looked utterly unconvinced, but shock was being displaced by fatigue. "Would you like to go for a drink?"

"I don't think so."

"How about I walk you home, then? You've had a nasty fright … don't want anything to go wrong."

"Fine, whatever."

He passed their journey mostly in silence, whereas she chattered away in a disgruntled tone, complaining about all sorts - the weather (which seemed perfectly fine), the slightly cobbed pavements, the raucous pubbers and clubbers, Jacks superfluously long coat ... He ambled along with ease, never straying more than a couple of feet away from Donna and grinning quietly, putting in the occasional rebuttle to one of her absurd complaints. It was a mild night and the moon shone brightly, but Donna still shivered uncontrollably as she ranted. Jack watched her with a slight feeling of discomfort, but didn't intervene. She didn't seem like the type who'd want him to start inexplicably mollycoddling her, but he couldn't help but feel some responsibility for her. He'd have gone to the end of the Universe for the Doctor – in fact, he had done on one occasion – and he felt indebted to him, no matter how the Time Lord had treated him in the past. This feeling of unfailing loyalty and allegiance extended potently to the other companions of the Doctor. Rose had been the flower he'd wanted to keep preserved forever, protected from the harsh realities of the Universe as long as was possible even if she was determined to rebel against that and fight for what was right. Martha was now one of his most trusted members of Torchwood, a brave young woman whose courage and whose family's pluck had saved the world, even if the world had never remembered it. Even Mickey – he felt like he had to protect him, no matter what the world was prepared to fling at him. All because these people were extensions of the one man who had managed to reinforce his humanity, compassion and will to help others again.

Even so, Donna's apparent extreme temper was keeping him from doing this right now. He needed to find a way to keep a tab on her, make sure she wouldn't come to harm, contact her if ever there was an alien situation in the city. Which, he pondered acrimoniously, was highly likely.

They reached her home and he walked up the steps to her front door. "Listen, I know it seems a little over the top, but I think we should exchange numbers. Just, y'know, so I can see if you're okay … or maybe ask you out for a drink some time?"

Donna looked flabbergasted. Always, he would _always_ be relying on his sexuality as a fallback, not matter what the situation was. Nevertheless, Jack's 51st century pheromones seemed to be doing the job and she willingly complied. He grinned and turned away, walking into the night. "Good bye, Donna Noble!" he called out.

"But I don't even know your name!" she yelled back.

"It's Jack! Jack - Hart!"

* * *

**Reviews give me the willpower to continue with this! Otherwise ... maybe I won't?**


	8. Chapter 8

Donna had thought about Jack Hart a lot since that night he walked her home. For some reason he _infuriated_ her. She couldn't tell why, but she had this itching feeling as though she should just run away from him, as far as she possibly could. But there was something drawing her to him, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. Those penetrating blue eyes, that dazzling smile. She would drift off at work, lost in a reverie about that night, or nights that could yet come. He _had _asked for her number, hadn't he? But what could someone like him ever want with her? She was nothing but a secretary! Even so, there was something lurking beneath his charming exterior that made her feel like he knew her better than she knew herself. And it scared her, more than she would have liked to admit. And more rightly so than she could ever have imagined.

* * *

_Jack Hart._ Why did he have to choose 'Hart' as his last name? _John would have a field day over that one if he ever found out,_ Jack mused.

It was Friday afternoon and he was sitting in his office, twirling a pen around and twiddling his thumbs. It wasn't often like this in the Torchwood hub; things had been quiet lately. A little _too_ quiet. Where was Ianto when you needed him? Jack hadn't had coffee in a while and besides, there were certain _other_ things he could think of to fill up a boring afternoon.

But somehow, thoughts of the Welshman didn't seem quite as appetising to Jack as they used to. Ianto had certainly seemed closed off of late, but that wasn't quite it.

Donna Noble.

The name of the fiery redhead kept coming back to Jack, no matter how far he tried to push her from his mind. She was at the forefront of his thoughts practically all the time. He hadn't seen her for three days and although he was worried about her safety, he knew that wasn't the reason he was thinking about her.

Something had passed between them on the night with the weevil. Jack hadn't been certain of it at the time, but he was seeing her differently now. He could remember the way the moonlight had bounced off her head in sheens of silver, highlighting her hair like a crown. Her eyes were sparkling in his mind and her voice reverberated around his head. But it wasn't just that. He wanted to talk to her, ask her things; he was refreshed by her no-nonsense attitude and found her amusing. Not in a patronising way, mind. She had been genuinely funny and he was sure she was aware of her charm.

There was only one thing for it. He had to establish a friendship, a _relationship_, of sorts, with her to ensure he could look after her properly.

Yes, he told himself. It was for her own safety. Not his own enjoyment, of course.

* * *

Donna sat on the bus, looking out at the wet and windy December night. She didn't know what was wrong with the weather here – it was so mercurial. The atmosphere around Cardiff certainly was peculiar. The rainwater dripped down the glass and she watched the swirls and eddies liquidate the streets. Her mobile phone beeped unexpectedly, interrupting her thoughts.

Slightly flustered, Donna hastily answered it. "Hello?"

"Donna? Hi, it's Jack! Jack Hart."

"Oh, hello …" she was even more flustered now. This was the last thing she'd expected, even though she'd thought of practically nothing but him for the last three days.

"How are you?"

"Fine. Listen, I'm on the bus right now, can I call you back later?"

"Not a chance. Either let me down nicely now, or maybe I won't ring again!"

Was he _flirting_ with her? Again?

"Alright." Donna was more than a little confused by his behaviour.

"Listen, what are you doing tonight?"

"Uh, well …" Donna didn't want to admit that she had no plans. "I might be meeting some friends, but …"

"Any chance you could cancel? I'd love to take you out."

Was Donna imagining this? A handsome, albeit slightly arrogant man just walks into her life and takes a fancy to her – there was no way she could say no, no matter how 'infuriating' she found him. Besides, he'd been nice. And it wasn't like she'd be taking up with a complete stranger, was it? Well, she had only spent about half an hour with him. But he felt more familiar than some friends she'd known a number of years. The personification of déjà vu, even though he was such a mysterious stranger.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"I said okay, didn't I?"

"Brilliant. I'll pick you up around eight?"

"Eight it is."

She couldn't help but grin to herself for the rest of the journey home.

* * *

Donna had been getting herself ready for at least an hour. She didn't want to call her rendezvous with Jack a 'date' per say, but it was the first alone time she'd had with a man since Lance. That had all seemed so long ago, she could barely remember why they'd broken up in the end. Something to do with his sister-in-law. She'd been a complete monster, that woman. So destructive. It was funny, though; how the memories had faded … she could barely remember why she'd ended up hating him so much. How much he'd hurt her.

Still, it was all in the past and there was a _new_ avenue opening up for Donna if tonight went well …

She'd chosen to wear a flattering, deep purple v-neck sweater with embroidered edges and what she thought was a classy gold chain. Her jet-black slacks streamlined her figure and she had her auburn tresses tumbling down, framing her face in loose curls and waves. Make-up was kept to a minimum and all in all, she thought she looked pretty good. The bell rang at quarter past eight.

She opened the door in a deliberately slow manner, careful not to look too eager.

"Hello," she said in a purposefully low, unnatural voice.

Jack looked slightly taken aback.

"Hi there," he uttered, as charming as ever. "I brought you flowers." He held out a bunch of blood red roses, beautifully bundled up. _I wonder if they're a bit risky_, he thought. The choice of flower definitely was significant and maybe a little familiar; _roses._ Even so, he was also worried she might think him a little keen.

But if Donna thought him too extravagant, she didn't show it. She took the flowers inside, practically treasuring them.

"I'll put them in a vase later. Shall we go?"

* * *

Jack had decided to take her to a fish bar near the bay. Again, he worried that the location might be a little too Torchwood-orientated, but he'd been to this restaurant before and knew it was intimate yet inviting. They'd been talking and laughing, relaxed into conversation as if they were old friends.

Pouring Donna her third glass of red wine, Jack gave her a deep stare across the table. The candlelight luminated her face and she really did look beautiful.

"You look beautiful," he admitted, though whether it was to her or himself he couldn't be sure.

Donna didn't simper or blush like other women might have done. She smiled at him, straight on, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Thank you," she said. Her eyes continued to bore into him and he had to look away. "Shall we order dessert?"

* * *

This time the walk back was much less controversial than the first time he delivered her safely home. They chatted and joked happily, and both felt a feeling of disappointment when they finally reached Donna's flat.

"Would you – like to come in for a cup of tea?" Donna asked him with some slight trepidation, holding up the keys to her humble abode.

Jack wavered. He really, really wanted to go in. He wanted to spend more time with her, talk to her more, maybe even brave kissing her. But something was stopping him. This was too dangerous; he just didn't know enough about the Metacrisis. Who knew what could happen?

"Uh, I think I should head home, actually. I have an early start tomorrow." Donna's smile faltered.

"Oh, okay."

"But I'll call you again – soon!" Jack leaned in for a goodnight kiss, not sure whether he was aiming for her lips or her cheek. He just started to close his eyes, thinking he might as well give her a proper smooch –

Donna dropped her keys in surprise. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry," she muttered, hastily bending down to pick them up. The moment had been ruined. Jack rapidly stepped away, arms behind his back, looking slightly bashful. _What was wrong with him?_ He wasn't _usually_ like this with women, men, or anyone else for that matter.

"Well, good night." Donna smiled almost coyly, while Jack retreated down the steps.

Walking along the street, he looked back at the flat. He could see her in the living room, a silhouette against the beige curtains. _What have I got myself into?_ He thought.

* * *


End file.
